


Tasting Starlight.

by Gezelligheid



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Frodo's the genderbend victim this time!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gezelligheid/pseuds/Gezelligheid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War, and the end thereof, is the worst time to fall in love, Sam reflects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Musings and musses.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself, I'm so sorry! But, after reading "Dreams and Poppies", I thought, "What if Frodo was the girl?" And then I said "Oh no...!" Because the stories were coming and they practically wrote themselves.

 He wasn't exactly certain how it started, or when he realized it. 

Perhaps it all started with Weathertop. 

That was when the dangers of their quest became reality, when he first realized that there was a chance they would not survive. 

That _she_ would not survive. 

It was the first of many times he came within a hair's breath of losing her. 

The images were forever printed on the inside of his eyelids to haunt him when he slept. The memories of her face twisted in agony beyond reckoning, grey and cold as stone,  eyes rimmed with red and wide open with fear, the irises turning a pale icy blue. He could still hear her cries and screams, rending his courage to pieces far more than those screeches of the wraiths that wounded her.

Along with them came the agony that he had failed the Mistress of Bag End, his dear friend.

 This fear gnawed at his inside. It tormented him when Strider had sent her on ahead with the elf maiden, and he feared the outcome of two women, one dying, alone against those demons.

He could not eat, could not rest, until he knew whether or not they were safe.

He almost didn't see entering the Hidden Valley, scarcely noticed the ornate structures and buildings, forgot to be awed by the luminous beings surrounding him that had caught his fascination since he was a wee little lad. His thoughts were filled with his employer and friend.

Once he heard from the king, the father of the Elf woman who'd carried Frodo the rest of the way, that the halfling had made it in the nick of time, he demanded to know where she was recovering.

At first Lord Elrond looked at him critically, until Aragorn assured him that Sam would cause no harm, even unintentionally. The king of Rivendale then showed him the way.

 

Oh, how  frail she had looked, lying in that great bed that made her seem even smaller.

 _Could she really be recovering?_    He'd never seen someone look so pale and still outside a coffin. The sight wrenched his heart to pieces, as did the coldness of her left hand when he held it. 

What would he do if anything happened to her? If she didn't survive this? 

He couldn't bear even contemplating it, it brought a pain that was almost physical. 

Perchance it was then, at that moment, he began to realize just how valuable Frodo Baggins was to him.  

It was an epiphany that was terrifying... and wondrous. 

One simply _couldn't_ fall in love with their employer, it would lead to only mess and heartbreak.

 

And yet there it was.

 

Well, he decided as she convalesced in the Last Homely House, he didn't have to acknowledge it. But he would do everything in his humble power to keep her safe from harm.

He hadn't the slightest idea at the time how the bonds of loyalty, friendship, and love would be stretched to their very limits. 

And they were. Eru knew they were.

But not once did he consider turning back. Not when he saw her fail and was made aware of how flawed and imperfect his mistress was.

Not even that heart-stopping moment when she finally succumbed.

All that only made him want to love and help her all the more.  

 

* * *

 

 "What seems to be on your mind, Sam?" 

She had interrupted him in the middle of a smoke during their journey home,  seated a few yards away from their campsite, pipe stem clenched between his teeth as he stared off into the distance. He turned and smiled, pulling it from his mouth. 

"Many things, Ma'am." He responded. "Can't rightly put a name on all of them." 

She sunk down beside him. "Gandalf believes we'll reach Bree in a fortnight." 

"I reckon it'll seem right small to us now," He said. "After all the dirty great cities we've seen that would fill the whole Shire."

"Indeed." Frodo laughed lightly, a sound which had been quite rare from her these days. "And the oliphants. Don't forget those."

"I don't think I shall." 

She folded her hands into her lap. "It's not quite like you to be off by yourself, not that there's anything wrong with it, mind." Another playful smile came to her features. "Thinking of Rosie?" 

 He choked on the puff of smoke he was in the middle of inhaling.  

Frodo grimaced. "I'm so sorry. I should know better than to pry in such personal matters." 

"S'alright." Sam managed once he caught his breath. "Nothing wrong with bein' curious." 

 "She must miss you something awful." 

He smiled back. "That seems wishful thinking. I haven't exactly made much of an impression before we left."

"Nonsense, you danced with her at Bilbo's party."

"She danced with many folk that evenin'." He countered, though not unkindly.

"Yes, but _you_ are the one she'll be remembering the most. I have no doubt of it."

He smiled fondly at her. "You have a great deal of confidence in me, Miss Frodo."

"Rose Cotton would be a fool to not notice you." She stated simply. "And you and I both know she's no fool."

That thought didn't please him like it might have before.

 He turned back to stare at the surrounding glen, emptying the ashes from his pipe.

Truth be told, he'd scarcely thought about Rosie any more than anyone else they'd left in the Shire. He highly doubted she thought of him as more than a friendly acquaintance, though Frodo was convinced otherwise. 

It was very kind of his employer, really, to be so concerned about his happiness and well-being. Did anyone else have a master or mistress who cared so...? 

"Sam?" 

He was yanked from his thoughts with a start. "Eh?" 

"I'm sorry to interrupt your thinking again, but you grew so quiet and still all of a sudden." 

"It's alright." He gave a crooked grin and a light shrug. "I was just thinking how grateful I am to you. You've been mighty kind to your Sam." 

Her own smile faded, as did the light in her expression, a pall coming over her features. She cast her eyes down and turned away, as if ashamed to even look him directly in the eye. "I've also been very cruel. More cruel than I've been kind." She murmured at last.

 This sudden change in demeanor left him nonplussed. "What in heaven's name d'you mean?" 

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Have you forgotten so easily? Forgotten the things I've said, how I ignored your judgments in favor of one in the Ring's thrall, how I nearly killed you in Osgiliath when you'd saved me from the Nazgul, when I turned you away so cruelly on the stairs of Cirith Ungol? Not _once_ have I showed the proper gratitude that was your due." 

"All those? It weren't you Lass, not really. You weren't in your right mind." 

She shook her head. "There is no excuse, I have hurt you so..." 

She still saw only her failures, both in the quest to have the Ring unmade and in her treatment of him. She would never let herself forget that, were it not for Gollum, the war would've been lost, all Middle Earth would've been lost, and all their friends' struggling and pain would have been for naught.

And in that second his need to comfort and assure her overrode all common sense, and the words that were pressing to the roof of his mouth came bursting forth. 

"Weren't no hurt you can give me that won't heal! If you only knew how much you meant to m...!" 

 

Too late he realized what he was saying and snapped his mouth shut, biting on his tongue.

 

If he had merely continued, or hadn't stopped so abruptly, she might not have thought anything unusual about his words. But he had, and so she did.

She lifted her head, stared forward for a moment as she processed what she'd heard, then shot him a confused look over her shoulder. "What did you say?" 

Heat rose to his face and ears. "I..." What he wouldn't give for the earth to swallow him up at that moment. "I meant nothing by it Miss... Ma'am... that is." He stuttered, shamefaced. 

"No," She turned to face him fully, the very picture of seriousness. "Tell me what you mean, tell me the truth... like you've always done."

Her eyes locked sternly onto his and he knew he was cornered.   

"The thing of it... that is to say...er, well..." He was feeling more and more foolish with each word. Why hadn't he kept silent?

Her gaze grew sympathetic. "Yes?"

"What..." He swallowed, staring at his feet. "What would you say of... of a chap who began to feel things that aren't right proper?" 

"You'll have to give me more specifics." 

He closed his eyes, steeling himself. More than anything, he feared upsetting and offending her. But he'd opened this door, he was going to step through it and face the consequences. "What if someone cared for their employer... more than they ought to.... _far_ more than they ought to."

For the longest moment she didn't respond, and it was agony.

Finally, in a soft, gentle but unreadable tone,  "How much ought someone care for their employer, or how little?"  

He finally had the courage to look at her, thinking she might have missed the hidden meaning in his question. When he saw her face, however, he began to realize this was not the case. She looked collected, and yet clearly on edge, her mouth pressed into a thin line. 

This was it. The beginning of the End. He had ruined the friendship that had sustained them through all their trials and hardships, and now she would never look at him the same again. Every spoken word  between them would be tinged with awkwardness, for he had  grossly overstepped his bounds.

But she had asked, and she deserved a truthful answer. "One ought to care a great deal... but not... but not this way." 

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he could have sworn that the light in her eyes flickered. "In _what_ way?" She spoke barely above a whisper. 

"I..." The words lodged in his throat. 

"..." 

 

Oh, he couldn't do it. 

"I'm... I'm so sorry... Miss..."  

Sympathy broke through her features again, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "Please, don't be afraid of me Sam."

 "Afraid..." Her concern seemed to untie the knot his tongue had found itself in. "I'm not afraid of you, Ma'am."

"Of my reaction, then?"

He swallowed. "Aye, that's what has me scared witless." He admitted in a hoarse whisper.

Her head tilted back just slightly, as if to say, "And...?"

He heaved a great sigh. "Perhaps you do frighten me in a manner of speakin', but not the way you might think."

The beginnings of a smile appeared in her face.

He continued. "You make me... feel things."

There was some surprise, but not nearly as much as he'd expected. "Things, what things?"

He began to fidget under her scrutiny. "The things I oughtn't..." Bugger, he was right back in this mess.

But the smile grew wider, tinged with a bit of sadness.

"I know."

He automatically flinched. "You do?"

Her hand moved from his cheek to firmly hold his own hand. "Yes."

He braced himself for what was to come.

"Oh Sam, my dear, don't look so crestfallen! I haven't finished yet!"

He glanced up, greatly bollixed now.

The sadness in her face was replaced with a different emotion, and she cupped his cheek again. Her smile seemed suddenly bright and gently illuminating.

"You underestimate yourself far too much, Samwise Gamgee."

He felt the tender skim of her thumb along his cheekbone, weighed the meaning of her tone and words, along with the bright and clear affection in her eyes...

And suddenly, he understood.

"Oh... _oh_...!"

Heat began to rise to his face, fluttering surges behind his breastbone. A strange giddiness, crossed with disbelief, then relief, then joy.

"Lass.. that is... Frodo... you...?"

She gave a faint laugh. "Yes, my dear Sam." 

He stared at her in wonder. Could it be true? 

"Hoy, Frodo?" Pippin called from the fire.

"Yes?" Her hand grasped his again. "Coming." 

But before standing, she gave him another fond smile, lifting his hand and pressing a light, tender kiss in the center of his palm. 

"We can pick this conversation back up the next chance we get." She promised in a whisper. 

 Sam could only stare and nod dumbly as she returned to the fire. He then glanced down at the kissed hand as if there would be some visible trace of her gesture, however quick and brief, that was sending his insides all aflutter. 

He was now completely and utterly confused.

But could not stop the silly, joyful grin from appearing, even if he tried. 

* * *

 

As he had predicted, it was so very strange to be in Bree again, after everything. But it was not quite how they had left it. 

They created quite a stir, the five of them, the hobbits in their chain mail and Gondor finery, Gandalf in his dazzling white robes.

"I'll tell you," Barliman Butterbur remarked when they sat in the inn's parlor, "I'll not mind having you lot around. Of late, there's been queer things afoot, and you look the sort as to scare trouble away. Robbers, beasts, and shadowy things that'll freeze the very blood in your veins." 

"I've no doubt." Gandalf replied, speaking around the stem of his pipe. "That comes as no surprise to me, considering recent events. But things will get better for you here, especially," His dark eyes twinkled. "Now that one of your most loyal patrons is now sitting on the throne of Gondor." 

The innkeeper blinked in pure befuddlement. 

Sam couldn't hold it in. "He means Strider." He said with a laugh. 

There was astonishment, then disbelief. "Strider, the ranger?  _King?!_ "  

"Aye!" Pippin chirped, already loosened by the inn's brew. "Saw the whole thing ourselves, we did! Guests of honor at the coronation!" 

"Well," Barliman muttered, shaking his head. "Best news I've heard in weeks. Strider, all this time, a king!" 

* * *

The residents of Bree were very curious, and in their short stay the group was besieged by visitors filled with questions. There had been rumors for the last year or so of the "Underhill Lass", from Hobbiton, who'd brought strangeness with her. One or two had sworn they'd seen her disappear, vanish before their very eyes, but they acknowledged that they had been drinking at the time, so such claims were taken lightly.

And now, she and her companions were back, dressed in strange garb, bearing armor and swords, from beyond the Misty Mountains they'd said, accompanied by a strange old man in brilliant white.  

Many wanted to know exactly whereabouts the group had been. What was it like down in southern lands? Was the ranger Strider really a king? With a crown and everything? Would he come down again for a visit?

After they had stayed two nights and a day, it was time to be leaving.

The spirits of the citizens, lowered from the scoundrels and other shadowy goings-on, had been lifted by the strange group and their hopeful messages. As they rode out nearly every man, woman, and child turned out to wave them goodbye and bid them safe travels.

There was one moment that set itself in Sam's memory. A human mother with a little boy scarcely old enough to walk actually went up to Frodo and asked her to bless her child. Not quite knowing what to do, but not wanting to turn them away, the last Ring Bearer placed her undamaged hand gently on the head of the child (who was only a head and a half shorter than she was), then kissed his forehead. Beaming, the mother thanked her and returned to the crowd.

"D'you think she knew? Surely no-one here knows what you did." Sam asked Frodo. "I didn't reckon on such news reachin' here at all, much less so fast."

"I don't think it has anything to do with the Ring." She whispered, still gazing in the direction the woman and child had gone off to with a faraway smile. "I think it is simply because I am a woman like herself, and she thinks I'll understand better."  

But Frodo was not at all like the woman, he thought. She was far beyond comparison to anyone now.

He was about to say this when Barliman called out to the five, "You can come back any time. Folk as yourselves may be just what we need in times like these."  

* * *

 

"What do you think he meant by that?" Frodo asked Gandalf once they were down the road a mile or so. "I don't like this. I've been ill at ease since he told us of all the brigands and creatures that have been plaguing the area."

The wizard sat tall on his mount, shoulders tensing."There has been foul goings on in our absence, as I feared might happen."

The other four looked at each other nervously.

"You remember," He continued. "Saruman and Grima escaped and were never caught."

Sam's stomach turned with dread. He had heard descriptions of the treacherous wizard and of Wormtongue, each more loathsome and frightening than the last. "What would those blighters want in these parts?" He asked.

Gandalf's mouth was a grim line. "Saruman had his eye on the Shire long before Sauron."

Froda exhaled sharply, hands tightening on her reins. "The Shire...?"

"Oh!" Merry suddenly gasped, pulling his pony to a halt. "Remember, all that Southfarthing pipeweed Pip and I found in Isengard?"

The others stopped, the terrible implications whirling in their minds. 

"What d'you think... that is...what could he be doing there?" Sam asked timidly. 

"Something foul." The wizard muttered, staring off into the distance. "But I know not what." 

"Well," Pippin began, attempting to sound cheerful. "At least we've got you with us." 

Gandalf gave them each a little smile. "I'll not be accompanying you this time." He informed gently."You must do this yourselves, it is what you were trained for." 

"Oh but sir..." Sam began to protest. 

"No, my dear Samwise, my time of helping in Middle Earth has ended. You must all learn to act without my guidance." At this his smile widened. "And I have no doubt you'll do wonders on your own." 

* * *

 

At the next fork in the road they parted ways, reluctantly bidding the wizard goodbye.

The Halflings continued west, traveling the fading light. Speculations were rife as to what was happening in the Shire right now. Well into the evening they heard the gurglings of the Brandywine. 

Sam looked ahead and saw something that made his heart drop into his stomach. 

"Look at the bridge!" 

They halted. 

Barring their way was a metal gate, where there was none before.


	2. The Heroes Come home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this chapter is sooo loooong! The scouring of the Shire, even with parts cut out, makes for a long read. But it's important to the plot, even with its blatant lack of romance.

 The heroes looked up at the daunting structure before them. It was pure metal, sharp and sinister, certainly not of the usual Hobbit fashion. There was a second one at the bridge's other end. Behind it were two bleak buildings of the same make. There was no light anywhere to be found.

"Bugger," Merry muttered under his breath. "If I didn't believe Gandalf before I certainly do now. This has Saruman written all over it."

All four began to pound on the gate with all their might, hollering at the tops of their voices. "Hoy! Wake up! Anyone there? Let us in!" 

Lights began to flicker inside the nearest building. "Who's there?" A sleepy voice called out from the slit of a window. "Do you know what time it is? Can't you read?"

"Read _what?_ " Merry called back.

"The sign says _'No admittance between sunset and sunrise'_    _."_

"There ain't no sign that we can see." Sam answered. "Least not in this light."

A stream of lanterns bobbed out through the door of the closest building as a small crowd of groggy hobbits stumbled forward to investigate. Once they were close enough, however, one of their number let out a cry of surprise, startling the ponies.

"Oi! It's Master Brandybuck!" 

"That it is!" Someone else exclaimed. "And look! Miss Baggins, and Master Took and... who's the other's name again?"

 "Samwise Gamgee." Frodo stated perfunctorily. "And what is the meaning of all this?"

 One of the halflings, the ostensible leader of the group, gave them an apologetic smile. "Terribly sorry Ma'am, but it's the Chief's orders."

Her eyebrows lifted, mental images of the disgraced white wizard flashing forward. "'Chief'?" 

"That'd be Lotho Sackville-Baggins." 

Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. _Eru a_ _bove..._

Merry snorted with contempt beside her. "Old Pimple?"

"Hush hush now!" The leader of the gatekeepers waved his hand in an alarmed gesture. "You mustn't say such things about the Chief. And keep you voices down..." 

Apparently this was too much for Meriadoc, who leaped from his pony and strode to the gate. "We can say anything we very well please about Pimple." He stated. "And if you won't let us in, we'll let ourselves in. Come on Pip!"

His younger cousin joined him, armor and sword clanking, and to everyone's great surprise the two began to climb the metal gate. The gatekeepers watched, giving a few halfhearted warnings, but made no move to stop them.  

No sooner had the made it to the other side and onto the ground, however, there came a booming voice from the direction of the second building.

"Wot's all this?"

Stomping into the light was a figure nearly twice as tall as any hobbit, and far wider, clothes threadbare and face bristly. The gatekeeper hobbits scattered, looking fearfully and pityingly at the four travelers. 

The ruffian came right up to the pair, glowering down at them. "Who the bloody dickens are you? Wot d'you want?" 

Merry smiled, completely unruffled, planting his fists on his hips. "I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, rider of the Mark, squire of Eomerking. And this is Peregrine Took, Knight of Gondor, servant of Elessar." 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." Pippin grinned cheekily. "And as for what we want..." in a flash he had unsheathed his sword and pointed it straight at the ruffian's chest. "We'd like the keys." 

Clearly, the villain wasn't expecting a hobbit to be bearing such a weapon, and his piggy eyes bugged out comically in surprise. 

"The keys, good sir." Merry said, drawing his own blade. 

Shaking like a leaf, the man fumbled with the objects in question and hurried to unlock the gate. No sooner was the latch undone and the door open when he flung the keys to the ground and made a dash for safety. 

Sam and Frodo, who had been holding their breaths the whole time, let him pass and disappear into the night, but Sam's pony saw fit to clip him as he passed. 

"Good lad!" Sam proudly patting his steed's neck, and Frodo couldn't help but laugh. Some of the gatekeepers cheered.

"Why thank you." Merry nodded, he and the Pippin grinning smugly. "Now, if it's not too much trouble, we'll be wanting some lodgings for the night, if you please."

"And some vittles while you're at it." Pippin added.

The cheering died down and the gatekeepers looked remorseful.

"We're so very sorry, but it isn't allowed." The leader said, palms up in a supplicating gesture. "We aren't to take in folk off-handed or use extra food."

"Bother!" Pippin huffed in frustration. "What _is_ allowed now, that is the question."

Sam, however, was more inclined to be sympathetic. "Was there a bad harvest this year?"

"No," the leader sneered. "It's been a bountiful year, but the most of it goes to the Chief and his... guards. And what we do have, we aren't allowed to just give away."

"Bulls and bollocks." Merry growled. 

"Now, don't judge them so harshly." Frodo admonished. "They're merely doing what they're told, and probably frightened out of their wits." 

"Aye to that." Sam brought up. "Remember, weren't none of them seen anything the likes of which we've faced."  

Frodo spurred her pony through the gates. "We can find shelter elsewhere, but know this..." She referred to the group guarding the gateway. "It won't last. It's high time the family dealt with Lotho's arrogance, and I intend to see that we do."  

The group at the gate began to all look chastened. They shifted on their feet before huddling together, discussing the next course of events. After a good deal of mutterings, they turned once more to Frodo and the leader spoke, rather nervously. "Perhaps we may let you all stay for the night, if you do so real quiet-like, but you best leave very early in the morning."

"As for food," another brought up. "We can't spare any, for we're treading thin ice as it is."

Frodo gave them a mollifying smile. "That is fine. We still have some provisions from our journey. A place to sleep will suit us perfectly, thank you."

"And we will take full responsibility for any trouble we may get you in." Merry assured them. 

"Just tell them we forced you at the sword-point."  Pippin added.

* * *

 

The interior of the building was plain and ugly, the furniture austere. Hanging here and there up on the walls were lists of rules and regulations, many of which redundant and unnecessary. Pippin took mischievous delight in pulling several down and tearing them to many pieces.

A blanket was hung up as a divider to one of the corners so the Ring Bearer would have privacy in removing the armor beneath her clothes. The four were dismayed when they found there was no beer or pipeweed to be had, for, they were informed, it was all to be used by the Chief and his men. But Sam wisely pointed out that they should be grateful to have a roof over there heads and save the worrying for the marrow.

The next morning it was decided that they should make haste to Hobbiton and they set out at once. They were making good time, passing Frogmorton by afternoon and reaching Bywater by early evening, and there they were greeted by a terrible surprise.

The hobbit houses were destroyed, either burned down or razed to the ground, the smials were all abandoned, and, in place of the avenue of trees, there were now houses of the same ugly sort as the buildings at the Brandywine gate. A great chimney stood, pouring evil smoke into the air.

"No... oh no!" Sam exclaimed, eyes wide in terror. "My home...the Gaffer... oh Eru, what if... ?!" His voice broke on the last word. He began to urge his pony on. "I need to go on, see if they're safe!"  

"Wait Sam!" Frodo called and he halted. "I want more than anything to know if your family is safe, but we need to find out what we're up against before we do anything. Word's probably spread by now, and Lotho'll have a mess of ruffians waiting for us in Hobbiton."

His shoulders sagged, but he nodded. "Oh, you're right. We all best be keepin' our heads in a time like this."

"The first thing as we ought to do," Merry began. "Is find someone who can tell us how bad things really are."

But they received no such luck in Bywater. The houses were closed, no one gave them welcome or greeting. Small wonder; the streets were filled with Lotho's brigands and unsavory helpers, spilling out the taverns, drunk and rowdy. They did not bother the travelers aside from a few insults and jeers.

Suddenly, it seemed, a group of a particularly malicious sort appeared, armed with clubs, forming a line to block there way on the road, grinning like jack o'lanterns.

 "Oi, what's this then?" Their leader said. "What's a group of you little-'uns settin' about in funny togs, all important like?"

"None of your business." Pippin replied calmly. "It is no-one's but our own, least not to a bunch of gangrels like yourselves."

They found this quite amuseing. "Oh ho!" The leader cackled. "Gettin' right uppity, young Shire Rats." He turned to his companions with a knowing wink. "Well, not for long, I says. Now that Sharkey's arrived, things'll be settin' to there proper state."  

Pippin made a face."'Sharkey'?"

"He'll know what's best for you little weasels." The leader continued. "Made some mighty good changes to these parts, settin' this great mess o' weeds yer livin' in to it's proper state."  

"Ah," Frodo suddenly smiled. "So that's the plan, is it?"

The ruffians began to look a bit confused.

"I thank you for the information," She continued. "Our own people were not so forthcoming."

He looked up at her suspiciously. "What are you lot up to, exactly?"

The Ring Bearer squared her shoulders. "All you need to know is that your departure is nigh. Much has happened, the tower of Isengard has fallen, the king's men will be riding these roads again, and vile characters such as yourselves will be flushed out and driven from these lands."

For perhaps the briefest moment slivers of fear showing on their dirty faces. But then, one of them forced a grin  and burst into derisive laughter. The others followed suit. 

"Listen to the wee lass!" The leader taunted. "A little mouse tryin' to roar like a lion." He turned to Frodo with a jeering grin, reaching up to snap his fingers in her face."Think you can scare us little girlie, struttin' like a popinjay? Why..." 

He was interrupted by the twang of metal sliding and the sudden point of Pippin's sword aimed at his face, promptly joined by Merry's and Sam's. 

Apparently they had heard quite enough of the Ring Bearer being mocked. 

The thugs fell back, eyes bulging. Pippin spoke in a tone that was decidedly grown-up. "I am a messenger of the King, and this 'popinjay' is a close friend of his. She is one of the most renowned of the west, and you'd all do well to remember that." Like the msn at the Brandywine gate, these wretches were ill-prepared for hobbits that were armed and fearless. They stumbled backwards, falling over each other before fleeing.

"And if you ever set foot in this town again you'll regret it!" Merry called after them.

"Mighty good for them to leave, else I'd be tempted to leave the dirty lot all black and blue." Sam muttered. "The cheek! Callin' the last Ring bearer such names! After all you've done for them..."

 "I expected no less." Frodo told him. "Even worse would've been little surprise."

"But you heard what they said," He put in. "Lotho means to cut down all that's growin' in the Shire and replace is with metal and mortar."

She looked to the northwest, Bag End's direction, watching columns of smoke billow into the air. "No, _Lotho_ doesn't. He may be one of the victims now."

" _What?!_ " The three chorused simultaneously.

 She turned back to them. "I don't know why, but something tells me he didn't mean for it to get this bad. Yes, He is a fool, a wicked fool, but no longer in control of his own harriers. They are doing their foul deeds in his name, but not for much longer. he may be a prisoner in Bag End as we speak."

Pippin looked nonplussed. "You mean... we have to _rescue_ him now?"  

"It appears so."

"Now that's not nearly as satisfying." Merry grumbled.

"It's the right thing!"

"Didn't say I wasn't going to."

"But how?" Sam asked. "Like as not, those fiends will be comin' back soon in greater number, and won't be so surprised next time around. How can we fight 'em again?"

"Do you really think the other Shire folk are happy? They _must_ hate all this." Merry put forward. "They must be too frightened. I'd bet folk 'round here would drive these lot back to Isengard if someone rallied them." 

"What are you suggesting?" Frodo asked.

"We raise the shire! Lead them on to fight, and we _know_ they can fight!" 

She gave a weary sigh. "I'm sick and tired of fighting, but I suppose we've no choice." 

"Farmer Cotton could help us." Sam noted. "He's a good man, he is. And his sons as well."

"You go fetch him." Frodo said. "We'll see what we can do here."

While Sam rode off, Merry pulled the horn of Gondor from its hanging place at his belt and blew. The haunting sound filled the village, rousing interest and exclamations as the men and women-folk, perhaps a little curious already as to the kerfuffle that took place minutes previous, oped their windows and doors, then streamed out to gawk at the two lads and one lass in strange trappings. 

Frodo and Pippin dismounted from their ponies and knocked on all the doors, alerting those too frightened to follow their curiosity. Soon the town's center was crowded. People were exclaiming, "What's all this racket? Hoy! Is that Frodo Baggins? It is! And Meriadoc and Peregrine! Thought they were all dead! Where's Hamfast's son?"

"Everyone listen!" Merry shouted. "We've seen what Lotho Sackville-Baggins has done to the Shire, and we will not stand for it! The four of us have just driven a group of those ruffians away, and they will probably be returning soon in greater numbers! "

"We are certain," Pippin continued. "That every hobbit has it in themselves to fight for what is just! you've all been frightened too long! We have just come back from a war with many a bloody battle, and all of the west is learning just how strong and courageous halflings really are! Follow us and we will tell you what you can do for the Shire!"

Most didn't need much more convincing. Every fellow, old and young, from the towns and even from the surrounding farms answered to the call. As per Merry and Pippin's instruction, every item that could be used in place of a weapon, pitchforks, heavy boards, knives, and the like, were collected and distributed amongst the crowds. Merry organized the groups and immediate plans were made as to what actions they would take. At the three's urging, several carts and pieces of furniture were taken out, and slowly and gradually, a barrier was built around the town center, with one small opening at one end. 

Sam returned soon, Tom Cotton and his sons in tow.

"You're considered the chief person around here by all your neighbors," Frodo said to Cotton. "At least before this mess started. Do you have any idea how many ruffians we may be facing?"

"There's no telling." He replied. "They comes and goes, skulk about in the shadows. There be at least fifty around Hobbiton."

"What sort of weapons do they carry?"

"Knifes, whips, and clubs mostly. But they will bring worse, if goaded enough."

"We will come to that when we have to." Merry said. "But for now, knives, clubs and whips we can handle. 

* * *

 

When the ruffians came, twenty of them all told, it was silent again, but the town's center was aglow. "Look." One of them pointed. "They're already usin' up the firewood rations."  

"Not for long." The leader smirked. "Cheeky little mites."

They were amused when they saw the barrier, pulling it open and stepping into the square. Standing before the bonfire was an elderly fellow and a young dark-haired lass, both wrapped in cloaks and warming their hands.

"What's the meaning of this?" The leader demanded. 

The two hobbits turned slowly and nonchalantly. "Can't a couple of folk warm themselves on a cold night?" The older one asked.

"Not if it's against the rules they can't."

The she-halfling looked up at him, and he tried not to be unnerved by her pointed gaze, burning and blue as the fires in the center of a forge furnace. "Perhaps we should discuss this with the rest of the town first."  

Suddenly a low rumble of voices filled the air, then they were surrounded by hobbits on all sides, ten for every human, and the barrier closed again.

The villains turned around and around, looking frantically for a way out. 

"We warned you not to return." Spoke Merry, his jaw set. "You're standing in the light and are surrounded by archers. Will you cooperate?" 

Their leader didn't believe these dunghill rats were strong enough to stop them. He lunged toward the head hobbit, knife in hand.    

A split second later he lay dead at Merry's feet, stuck through with arrows.

This was more than enough for the remainder, who immediately threw down their weapons and gave little resistance. They were promptly lead to a shack, one of many of their own making, and tied up and locked up. The body of their leader was taken away and buried. 

Already a great change came over Bywater. Folk were congratulating themselves and each other as they returned to their homes, merry voices, songs, and laughter filling the air. But the four heroes and the Cottons knew that the fight had only just begun.

"They'll catch word of this 'ere the night is over, and come tomarrow they'll be bringing a great host with their worse weapons." Cotton warned.

"Most of the hobbits will join us," Nick said. "Even those they recruited as Shirriffs and guards will be comin' for the most part, though some of them as like as not will prefer to stay on the Chief's side."

"I would just as soon not shed any hobbit blood ourselves." Frodo said. In her own mind, the desire for revenge from her kinsfolk was still a risk. Enough had died from the fell plagues of warmongering from Mordor, it was just as well less died when it could be avoided.           

"We understand, Lass." Merry said. "I'm tired of war too. But these folk are beyond talk and negotiations, they want violence. They started the bloodshed."

"Not strictly true." Cotton corrected him. "Least 'wise, not in the case of the Tooks."

Pippin"s face brightened. "What of the Tooks? What happened?"

"Well, Mister Peregrine," The farmer smiled. "It seems the Thain wouldn't have none of Lotho bein' in charge of all the Shire, and all his people agreed with 'im. Paladin said he wouldn't answer to no upstart and his thugs. So Lotho sends a group to 'convince' him otherwise. The Took archers stuck a great deal of them, and the Great Smials were too deep for them long-shanks. Now they keep a watch on them, but far as I know they haven't gotten the better of Master Peregrine's family."

Pippin could not be more pleased if he tried. "Hurrah for the Tooks! Good ol' Dad, bless him!"

"They could be just what we need!" Merry stated.  

"I can ride out this very minute, and bring them here." Pippin offered, before jumping on his pony again and riding out.

Frodo turned to the dispersing crowd. "I don't think there is more we can do this evening." She said. "It seems doubtful that the ruffians will try anything more 'till morning. Though we may keep our ears and eyes open." 

"You three can stay with my family for tonight." Farmer Cotton offered the remaining travelers. "Perhaps get a bit of nourishment."

"I thank you greatly, sir," Sam began. "But I'm right sure I won't sleep a wink without knowin' what's become of the Gaffer and sibs."

"Rest assured, Samwise, they are all safe. After Bagshot row was dug up, your sisters have been stayin' with your brothers and their families. The Gaffer's been stayin at one of those huts the chief's men built, and he's been doin' well as one can in a time like this. "

The gardener sighed in relief, turning expectantly to his employer. "Oh please Miss Frodo, may I go find him? Who knows what mischief will be startin' in Hobbiton next?"

"I'd let you," She said ruefully. "But I don't like you riding out alone into the dark at a time like this, especially now that we're all wanted criminals."

"I'll go with him." Jolly offered.

"Very well." She conceded. "I can't be keeping you from your family. But _do_ be careful, for heaven's sake."  

 "I will Ma'am." Sam promised, a little smile playing at his features.

* * *

While they went off, Merry and Frodo went with the rest of the Cottons to their home. Mrs. Cotton and Rosie wasted no time in preparing a nice hot meal, and as they sat to rest their sore muscles, Farmer Cotton explained all that had happened. 

  "T'was before you all left that it started. Just as his mother and he were settin' to move into Bag End, Lotho bought the south-farthing Pipeweed farm. No sooner had they set down their bags and you set foot out the door, Miss Frodo, then he went and bought Sandyman's mill. He started sendin' some of that weed down to places unaccounted for, but no one noticed much, lettin' him mind his own funny business.

"Then money started comin' to 'im, and he was buyin' things right and left. Already inherited some farmland from his late father, and it seemed he could never get enough property. And he was always sendin' the food, brew, and weed to them foreign parts."

" Then the wagons came. Great dirty carts filled with unsavory big-folk, ruffians and footpads galore."

"On his orders they started a' cuttin down the trees and digging up the grass, buildin' the ugliest shacks and huts you ever did set eyes on. When ever folk started to complain, or went to protest, his ruffians would scare them right off, sometimes usin' violent means. Before anyone knew it he owned a good half of the Shire, and had either burned or cut it down. "

"Hobbiton's mayor tried to talk some sense into im, bless the poor fellow. Didn't even make it to the door before Lotho's thugs grabbed him, trussed him up, and locked 'im in the new prisons that were once Michel Delving's storage tunnels.  Now Lotho is in charge, and he won't let us soon forget."

"Folk scarcely have enough to eat or drink around here, what with Lotho's men 'gathering' all the good crops and produce, and they're always worryin' about them Ruffians snatching them or their loved ones on a whim to either beat them black and blue or lock 'em up on some imagined slight."

"I tell you,though, it's gotten frightful worse since that Sharkey fellow came around. Seems he can't stand the sight of anything green or growin', and 'e's always cutting and burnin' every thing there was. Most say he's the real boss now, as no one's seen that rotter Lotho in a week or more. Most telling of all, they locked up his mother, which he'd never stand for."

"Whatever for?" Frodo interrupted.

The old farmer chuckled. "Old girl attacked some of Sharkey's men with her umbrella, she did. Didn't like takin' orders from 'em."

Merry laughed. "Never thought I'd be cheering for old Lobelia."

Before he'd finished his story, Sam, Jolly, and the Gaffer had arrived, none the worse for wear.

"Begging your pardon, Miss Frodo," Hamfast said once the tale was completed. "But you ought never to 'ave sold Bag End to them Sackville-Bagginses! That's what started the trouble!"

"I know it." She replied regretfully. "Had I any inkling something of this sort would happen, I never would have. But now I shall do all in my power to right this."

"That you'll do, Ma'am. No doubt about it." He then leaned forward and whispered. "I trust my Samwise behaved himself?"

She couldn't help the warm smile. "He has more than behaved himself, he had been a true hero and a loyal friend. I wouldn't be here today were it not for him."

"Eh! Is that so?"

She laughed lightly. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were singing of his deeds in Gondor and Rohan this very minute."

From the corner of her eye she caught Sam turning pink, but smiling gratefully.

* * *

    They arose at six the next morning to eat a nourishing breakfast. At twenty past seven a messenger came from the Great Took Smials with the news that Pippin would be leading a company of thirty. By ten they were all gathered at the town center, every lad capable of wielding a pitchfork, ax, hammer, or the like. 

Scarcely had the hour struck when young Tom came running from the north, where he had been on the lookout for any moment from their opponents. "There's little over a hundred of them, all armed." He panted. "They're travelin' the Bywater road."

"Perfect for us." Merry informed. "There's a spot... the bend two miles up..."

"They're beyond reasoning and negotiations." Tom continued, looking to Frodo. "They mean to kill all that moves, we have no choice."

"I suspected it might come to this." She said, brow knitted. "Though I'd give anything it would be otherwise. However, if one may kill as self-defense, there's nothing ignoble about that. I will not, however, let those who may throw themselves at our mercy be harmed in any way."

 "Wise and reasonable." Farmer Cotton agreed. 

"Aye, but now we must hurry." Sam reminded them. "We haven't much time." 

* * *

 

If there was any collective thought amongst the scoundrels heading towards Bywater, it was that they had been far to easy on those little dunghill rats. They would not accept their place as inferiors, so now drastic measures must be taken.

They were too distracted by thoughts of easy conquest and possible spoils, not to mention the satisfaction of putting the halflings in their place, to notice the natural high embankments on both sides of the road, topped by thick vegetation, enclosing them and blocking the view of the surrounding area. But as they turned a particularly sharp curve, they were impeded by a sturdy barrier of overturned carts and furniture. 

Stumbling backwards and cursing, they were immediately surrounded by hobbits who emerged from the shrubbery like ghosts, and another barrier of carts was immediately pushed onto the road behind. 

There was nowhere to go.

"Drop your weapons!" Merry ordered. "Then sit down! All attempts to run away will have you shot by our archers!"

Only a small handful obeyed. Several others tried to charge the barrier and many were felled by arrows. A few managed to clamber over and ran to the woods, but the hobbits had anticipated this, Merry blew his horn to signal the hunters waiting amongst the trees.

Many of the other men were scrambling to climb the barriers, only to be halted by the archers, or ax and hammer fall. Some managed to get over the sides of the embankment, and turned viciously on their attackers, but were nothing to the greater numbers of the hobbits.

Scarcely twenty-five minutes after it started, the fight had ended, nearly four-score men and nineteen hobbits lying dead. Those that were injured, friend and foe alike, had their wounds bound for later treatment. The prisoners were tied and led to the shacks they had built.

The hobbits had won what posterity would refer t as the Battle of Bywater.  

Frodo herself had injured no-one,though she was present. Instead her role had been to keep the hobbits who's judgment was clouded by rage from killing those who willingly surrendered.

 

* * *

The four had accepted the Cottons' invitation for lunch, but knew they couldn't rest long. "For the real challenge begins." Frodo said. "Now we must face the 'Chief', whomever he may be, whether Lotho or Sharkey, and there is no knowing what to expect once we reach Bag End."

"You should perhaps bring a company with you." Cotton suggested. "I'll come along, and after all you've done, I've no doubt you'll have no shortage of volunteers."  

Sure enough, a good eighteen hobbits agreed to accompany the four to Hobbiton and Bag End. 

They arrived by sunset, and saw that, being the center of operations , Hobbiton faced the most drastic and dreadful changes of all.

The woods and streams of Frodo and Sam's childhood were destroyed and replaced with tar shacks and gravel pits. The once pristine air was filled with smoke and the waters were polluted. Sandyman's mill had been rebuilt far larger and uglier, straddling the river like a giant toad and pouring refuse into the waters.

They looked on with horror and dismay. Every tree had been felled, litter and garbage thrown haphazardly on the ground. Nothing could have prepared them sufficiently for this sight.   

Suddenly Sam cried, "They... no! they cut down the Party Tree!" and they saw it lying where it fell.  They'd cut it for no reason other than that they could.

Sam could take no more and began to weep.

Seeing the stump where the great and beloved landmark had stood and was cruelly felled was horrible in itself, but seeing Sam's reaction, so utterly bereft, increased Frodo's own pain tenfold. But before she could reassure him they were interrupted by a grating cackle.

They all turned to see the great mill, and sitting atop the logs, hands and face blackened with soot, perched Ted Sandyman, wearing a wickedly gleeful expression.

"You don't like ee'?" He tittered.

Sam's sorrow rapidly turned to rage. "Sandyman, you cur! Sittin' up there like a dirty great rooster!" 

"Always thought you were soft, Samwise." the hobbit sneered. "Can't ye see the improvement? But I see now you're just as cracked as them Bagginses."  Sam made as though he would climb the pile and throttle the miller, but Pippin and Farmer Cotton held him back until the spell passed.

"Ha!" Merry snorted derisively. "Seem's to us as _you're_ the cracked one Sandyman. You and Pimple S.B." 

"Wouldn't say such things if I were ye." Ted threatened.  

"You are in no place to make threats, you lout." Merry announced, and for the first time Sandyman noticed the large number of hobbits following them. his mocking grin changed to panic and he dismounted the logs, running toward Bag End. 

"We must make haste!" Frodo said. "Before he warns them or summons any more ruffians!" 

* * *

 The group came at last Bag End, and were horrified at what awaited them. 

The beautiful home of her family had been ruined, it's yard littered with metal and refuse. And, what angered Frodo most of all, the garden, all of Sam and Hamfast's years of loving care and hard work, was trampled and brought to naught.  

Enough dawdling, they were going to set things right one and for all. 

She dismounted and strode to the battered front door, followed eagerly by the others. Testing the handle, she found it to be unlocked and opened up.

"Lotho! Are you in here? Answer me!"

The hobbits entered, noses wrinkling at the unpleasant odors. The rooms and halls lay in great clutter, making it difficult to tell furniture from garbage.

"This is worse than entering Mordor!" Sam exclaimed, both hands on his head. "Comin' home an' findin' it ruined beyind reckoning!" 

Merry chuffed angrily."Once I get my hands on that Saruman... I'll stuff my pipeweed pouch down his miserable gullet!"

"Droll... very droll."

The halflings jumped nearly to the ceiling at the honeyed voice. A figure in white emerged from one of the rooms, looking imposing in the stunted smial halls. Frodo heard Merry and Pippin gasp. 

It could be no other. His ancient, haughty face like one chiseled out of granite into lean, sharp features, and surounded by white hair and grizzled beard and black brows between. Proud and cold, he was as different from Gandalf as humans were from elves. 

Yet for all of his clear arrogance, he made a pathetic sight. The greatest of the Istari, now reduced to tyrannizing hobbits and using thugs to do his bidding. She believed it could have quite been humorous if no actual harm had been done. This all seemed lost on him, for he was clearly amused by their efforts.

"Sharkey, I presume." Frodo stated. 

"Well done, very clever." The wizard said. "My army from Isengard gave me that moniker, but it matters not." He stepped closer to her, brows lifted in a patronizing expression. "Imagine my surprise when I learned that the Ring Bearer was a _Mistress_ Baggins. Ah well, women-folk can be equally foolish." 

"You are hardly  in the place to call one foolish," She responded calmly. "You who've stooped very low." 

"And I suppose you think yourself very fine and clever." His sneer became a snarl. "Gallivanting with the big folk, sitting at the king's table, letting Gandalf make tools of you all and dropping you to crawl in the dust  as soon as he's finished. How pleased with yourself you must be, little hobbit, ruining my fortress and not once suspecting I might wreck your own home." 

She shook her head. "I suppose you'd like me to be angered, when in fact I pity you." She stood straight, chin lifted and looking the wizard calmly in the eye. "Well know this, you have lost all power here, and must now leave!"

"Don't let him go! Don't let him go!" Several of the other hobbits protested. "He's a murderer, a monster!"

Saruman rounded on them, making them flinch.

"Do you think you can restrain me?" He spat. "Do you mean to kill Saruman the White? Do you perceive that, without my fortress and my servants I can do _nothing_? Well hear this, shire rats, should my blood stain this land, all will whither and cease to grow!"

"I don't believe a word of it." Frodo exclaimed. "Gandalf took your powers, you can do naught more to harm this land. Now for the last time, _Leave!_ " 

He gave her a hateful look, then spun to face the doorway. "Worm! Come out here Worm!" 

A pathetic scrap of humanity came crawling on all fours like a toad from the clutter surrounding her home, pale of skin and meek of manner. 

Frodo was suddenly flooded with memories of another.

For one sickening moment her composure wavered, gorge rising and chest tightening as she thought of the broken soul she'd tried in vain to save. 

But in the following moment she had control again.  

"We must be leaving again." Saruman said, in an alarmingly calm voice, walking towards the door.  "It seems we are not welcome here..." 

Everything following that was a flurry of movement. As soon as the wizard was beside her his arm darted and Frodo felt something poke and break against her back.

Sam's face suddenly twisted with fury, letting out an enraged yowl as he and several others leaped upon the wizard, weapons drawn, and toppled him to the ground. 

It wasn't until she turned and saw the small knife with the snapped blade lying on the ground that she realized what happened.

"Stop! I'm alright!"

The others looked up, Sam's blade at the wizard's throat.

"I'm wearing chain-mail, remember?" She held up the broken blade. "Let him go."

Samwise's whole body sagged with relief, looking as though he might either cry or laugh.

The hobbits alighted and Saruman staggered to full height. "Well, Mistress Hobbit, you may have the satisfaction of robbing my revenge of its sweetness. Very well, I will depart." 

The hobbits cleared a path as he strode out, head still held high.

Wormtongue hobbled after him. How like Gollum he looked at that moment. And yet how different...  

"Grima." She called out. 

The wretch froze in his tracks, thurning his face to her. 

"You need not follow him." She said gently. "You have done me no harm. You may stay and find food and rest here..."

She held her hand out. "Break your ties with him." 

In that pivotal juncture, she could see the hopefulness in his eyes, she could almost hear Sam's thoughts. _What is she doing? Not this again!_  But she could see she was getting to him, for an instant he looked as though he would stay...

"No harm?" Saruman laughed. "No _harm_? Ask him then, where is Lotho?"

Grima's face suddenly contorted in horror, whole body cringing. "No... you made me! He made me do it!"

Her belly sank clear to the earth, dread creeping up her spine. "Made you do what? Grima, what's happened to Lotho?"

 "He's killed your Chief. Stabbed the little parasite in his sleep, on my orders. I told him to bury the body but... who knows. Worm hasn't been getting much to eat lately." 

He laughed at the horrified gasps. Frodo clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of revulsion.

" _No!_ It isn't true!" Grima wailed, hatred and dismay sparking in his eyes.

"You _did_ kill him, as I commanded." Saruman turned his back to him. "As I always command you, groveling slug."

Suddenly Wormtongue sprung onto his back with a cry, knife flashing in his hand, and before anyone could stop him he'd slit the wizard's throat.

Saruman's body collapsed in a heap and Wormtongue leaped away, only to be felled by several dozen arrows.

 

It all happened too quickly. Frodo felt as though the very air had been sucked from her body. Anguish, horror, disappointment, relief, exhaustion, and frustration all fighting for space. She began to sway on her feet, Sam's hand bracing gently against her back to help her remain steady.

A grey mist rose from the corpse of Saruman, turning briefly to the west, only for a cold breeze to blow it away. The body shriveled until it was naught but a pile of old bones.

"Well..." Sam began in an unsteady voice. "That's that."  

   

 

 

 

 


	3. The Courtship of Froda Baggins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is much shorter, and considerably more romantic.

As she had promised, she resumed their earlier conversation. But it took quite a while.

While a few hobbits set to work on burying the remains of Saruman and Wormtongue, the rest rode with great haste to Michel Delving in order to release the prisoners.  

There they found Lobelia, a mere wisp of her former self, scarcely able to stand without support and greatly subdued. Everyone had heard of what she'd done to the ruffians, so it was little surprise that she was soundly applauded by all surrounding.

Frodo told her that Lotho had been killed by Sharkey, giving no more detail. Sam had never felt pity for Lobelia before, but her reaction and pure anguish, collapsing against the younger lass and weeping loudly for her only child, made him sorry for all the unpleasant things he'd thought about her, however she may have deserved them. 

Once she recovered sufficiently, she announced her decision to give Bag End back to Froda, while she herself would return to her family.  

* * *

 

As could be assumed, the death of the two ringleaders crumbled what resistance there was in flushing out the ruffians. Most fled upon hearing the news, while a stubborn few had to be chased out or even subdued and tossed out of the Shire borders. Thankfully, no more lives were lost. 

A search of Sharkey's store-houses yielded some barrels containing decent brew, and the triumphant hobbits wasted no time in celebrating as hobbits do best, by reopening the Green Dragon and serving the brew at half price.

Laughter and song flowed more freely than the ale. Those who had fought valiantly, the Cottons, Chubbs, Poudfoots, all had their accolades ringing to the rafters, and Merry and Pippin's praises were declared the loudest. Heroes of the Shire. Saviors of the halflings. Their names would be remembered for all of posterity.

A couple hours in, Samwise noticed suddenly that his employer had disappeared from the revelry.

He worried about her these days, quite a bit. There was something, a weariness in her spirit and mind, that was slow in recovering. He immediately began searching the tavern, only to find her sitting quietly on the bench right outside.

She was serenely looking out into the broken landscape, surveying the chimneys, mills, and gravel pits. He felt a bit guilty for intruding on her moment of solitude, but wanted to make certain all was well. "Miss Frodo?"

She turned to him with a smile. "I'm sorry for just up and leaving without giving notice, I fully intend to go back inside. I just wanted a bit of quiet."

"There's nothing wrong with that ma'am." He assured. "It has been all rather noisy these last few days. Probably will be for the next fortnight."

"Care to join me?" She patted the spot beside her.

"Thank you." He sat.

They remained in reflective, understanding silence for the next half minute.

Finally he said, "How queer it is, being home in all this and yet feeling as thought you've just waked from a fantastic dream."

"Not I." She replied. "I feel as though I've fallen back asleep."

"Ma'am?"

She gave a light sigh. "I don't know... there are moments when I feel so exhausted, so _tired_... too tired to feel anything else."

 "I'm sure it'll pass soon." He tried to assure her. "Not that I don't believe you've earned every right to rest. Everythin' you've been through... why, it's enough to make anyone dead tired."

She nodded. "I'm just relieved that the fighting is ended, at last. Even though there is much work to be done, restoring our homes, I feel as though it is more healing work than exhausting."

"Aye, it is. Aint nothing like making things lovely again."

 

Her hand sought his and pressed it lightly.

 

They were silent once more. Inside, Sam could hear Sancho Proudfoot making a toast to Meriadoc and Peregrine.

"I do believe Merry and Pip are now the stuff of Shire legend." Frodo stated, a smile in her voice. "Well, they've earned it."     

 "That they have." Sam agreed. "And I'm greatly happy for them. Though ... now I know you're not fond of the subject ... but I wish more knew of all that you've done for Middle Earth. "  

Her left thumb curled reflexively over the stump of her severed finger. 

"I'm happier without them singing songs in my honor." She replied firmly. "But instead wish more people would for you." 

He shook his head. "Now that..." 

"I know, you don't like others making a fuss over you either." She looked askance at him and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "But I believe you are far more deserving."

 Heat rose to his neck. "Was only doing what was expected of me, is all. Mister Gandalf told me to go with you keep you in my sights at all times, and that's what I did, nothing more." 

"You did far more than that, You went far beyond your duty, though you may not believe it."

"Well I know you're also not believin' you did much, but I tell you it isn't true!" He stated. "You went and used every drop of your own self, and no one could ask for better."    

She gave a slow sigh, suddenly growing pensive and wary. Sam was little bewildered at this. 

"Are you alright?" 

Her eyes closed. "Yes. Just tired" Then she was silent again, and he waited apprehensively for he knew not what.

 Finally her eyes reopened and she looked to him, her gaze direct and held a faint despondence that she could never hide.

"You mean so much to me, Samwise, more than anything in this wide world. What I have to say will be unpleasant, but it must be said, and it is for nothing but your own well being." 

He swallowed nervously, but nodded. "Yes ma'am." 

 She took a deep breath. "You deserve so very much, have earned so very much. A good home and garden of your own, a beautiful loving wife, and scores of healthy children. But most of all, you deserve the utmost happiness, to be healed of the effects of the War." 

He flushed at the thought that he earned so much, but didn't protest yet. 

"There is so much... very little of which I can give you."

"I can give you a grand smial, a lovely garden that has always been your own even if you haven't always thought of it as such. "

She inhaled slowly. "I can even give you my undying, boundless love and devotion... but nothing else. Not a family, I strongly suspect the Ring has robbed my ability to beget children. Certainly not peace, for I am haunted constantly by the War and all in it"

He could stand it no more. "But... you loving me... why that's all I could ever want! More than I even _dreamed_ of! Even without the hobbit-hole and garden, I'd be happy still!"

Her efforts to appear calm faded and she grew downcast. "I know. But would you have the healing... the wholeness... you need? I am _broken_ , Sam, more than I could even begin to describe, and in ways that may never heal. More than anything, I fear that I may hurt you."  

He shook his head furiously, his grip on her hands tightening. "Didn't I tell you? Weren't no hurt you can give me that won't heal!" He managed a smile. "If you really, truly want me to leave you alone, just ask and I will. but all _I_ want is for _you_ to be happy, Miss Frodo, and I know you won't be if you're left all lonesome like in that great smial, with no one to care for you. And _I_ won't be ever happy if I know that's happening."

She gave a little smile of her own, in spite of herself. "Well, it seems we're at an impasse. I'm not happy if you're not, and vice versa." She grew serious again. "But I still want what will help you, and find it hard to believe that being with you won't bring hurt to you in the end."

He gave a small shrug. "I'm not whole either, aint none of us are, I reckon. But when I'm with you and I see you smile, or just sit there all peaceful and contented... well..." His smile grew wider. "I feel like I don't belong anywhere else." 

He wondered if he was being a bit selfish in wanting to be with her so much, but he realized, it was not for himself. It was Froda denying herself love and companionship that she needed so dearly, that every living creature needed. If she had loved another, he would've been just as adamant that she face her feelings and be with whomever it was. He would protest her self-imposed solitude just as loudly. 

Because, in the end, her happiness was all that really mattered.

She was wavering. "But, it is not so simple as you may believe. If you needed water, surely you wouldn't carry it in a broken vessel?"

"I would rightly!" He declared. "If I loved it, or if it was given to me with love. I would do everything in my meager power to fix it again, and if it still leaked, why I'd put my hand to the crack or hole to keep the water in. But I would _never_ just up and leave it on the shelf to collect dust!"  

For a while she said nothing. Her face inscrutable. 

She smiled then, slowly, serenely, and brilliantly, eyes brimming.

"Yes... you would, wouldn't you?" 

 

He'd won.

 

Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek. "My dearest Sam," Her voice wavered as if on the verge of tears. "What a gem you are... I love you so much."

A sharp pang of pure joy went off in his chest. Before he could ask if she truly meant it (though he knew she did), she leaned up to lightly kiss him for a whole blessed few seconds.

And it was even more wondrous than he could've dared to dream.  

As soon as they parted he pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace that she returned enthusiastically, unable to hold back the splitting smile. "I love you too! Oh I do! So very much!" He kissed her temple.

They stayed so for a good while before separating reluctantly. Still beaming she brushed the hair from his forehead. "I can promise that it shan't be easy, We have both been in the middle of great changes to this world, caused a great deal of it. You and I are both changed, and in my case not entirely for the better." 

"I know Mi... Me Dear." He corrected himself, making her laugh. "And, begging your pardon, I thing we're all the other is needin'." 

 

* * *

 

They were hardly with rest the nest few months. It took a full three days of cleaning before Bag end was habitable again. The Cottons graciously opened their home to Frodo and the Gamgees until then. Once she moved in again Frodo in turn let the Gamgees live under her roof until their home could be rebuilt. 

The gravel pit was dug out, fertile soil put in, and Bagshot Row set up like it had before, perhaps even better, with gardens and cozy warm-colored bricks and thatched roofs. 

 

 Sam worked the hardest of anyone. The whole time he spent reorganizing and replanting the trees. He one day suddenly remembered the little box that was his gift from Lady Galadriel, containing a single seed and soil of Lothlorian. Thankfully he'd managed to keep it safe with him. The four discussed what should be done with it.

"She said it would make my garden prosper." He reminded them. "But I'd feel mighty selfish to hoard it all to m'self."

"How can you spread such a little amount over the whole Shire?" Merry questioned. "Not that I think the Lady wasn't generous in what she gave you." 

"I've got it." Pippin suggested. "Stand in the center of the whole Shire, or as close as the center as we can figure, throw it in the air and let the wind do the rest."

"What an idea!"  Sam exclaimed.

"Perhaps," Froda began sagely. "We should test it first to see exactly what it does."

They all agreed this was prudent. Using a corner of Bag End's garden was suggested, but with all folk suffering as they did, Sam had no desire to waste any for his own pleasure. In the end he decided to plant new saplings in the places where the especially beloved trees had once stood, and, with the utmost care, dusted a single grain of Lorien soil on each one. So careful was he that he still had plenty in the box left.

With this he traveled to the Three-Farthing stone, the most central point as far as anyone could reckon, and tossed the contents straight up into the air, letting the wind catch and scatter.

As for the little kernel, he planted this where the Party Tree had stood. 

His entire winter was spent checking on the saplings, tending each one in the entire Shire as lovingly as if it was his own child, though he spent the most lavish attention on the ones in Hobbiton.

It wasn't just the surrounding Shire, he also set to work on restoring Bag End's garden. The fact that is was nearing the end of autumn brought some challenges, but it wasn't undoable. If there was any garden he held dearer than the rest, it was this one. 

* * *

 

One day Frodo asked him. "If you have the inclination, would you teach me some gardening?"

He pretended to look affronted but was unable to keep a straight face. "So you'll have no more need of me and give me the sack?" 

"Goodness no! You know I'd sooner cut off my own arm than fire you!"  

"I do at that." He chuckled. "I'd be more than willing to show you, but why, if you don't mind my askin' ?"  

"I very much want to help you. You're already working so hard at beautifying the whole Shire, I want to at least be some help in my own home." 

"I don't mind it none, Love. But if you want to help so much I'll let you." 

"Perhaps we can make an exchange. You teach me how to tend the garden, and I can teach you Elvish." 

"That's mighty kind of you, but there's no need, I'd be more than happy to do it for nothing other than your presence."

But she insisted.  

There was not much he could teach her in the late autumn and winter, but he could show her how to check for mold and frost damage, he let her rake the fallen leaves, he taught her how to "pinch" new shoots and leaves. He instructed her to the best of his ability on how to recognize good soil, and certain kinds of pests like aphids or insects that burrowed in fruit. He showed her how to wrap burlap around the more delicate plants when the weather grew particularly frigid, which was infrequent in the Shire. 

In turn, she instructed him on the beautiful lettering of the elvish language. She helped him recite simple words, then phrases and sentences rightly, how to use the proper pronunciation and enunciation. By and by, it all began to emerge, the understanding and similarities. he didn't like to speak it himself, as it was so different from his usual way of talking, and it sounded just plain awkward. But he could understand it when it was spoken to him, and as time passed some of it became more legible on paper.

 The two of them worked together, gently and lovingly caring for the beloved garden, and checking on the saplings in Hobbiton and Bywater, but, fearing for her health in this chill weather, he insisted on going alone when he went father afield.

The new year arrived, and with it countless blessings and fulfilled wishes.

The saplings had been growing steadily and rapidly all during the cold months shooting up at phenomenal rates, sometimes a whole three inches in one day. Sam and the Gaffer both shook their heads in astonishment and proclaimed that they had never seen such a wonder, saplings growing faster than the weeds around them.

But none grew faster than the kernel replacing the Party Tree. By the end of year 1419 b.s.r, it was already well above their heads, and growing rapidly still. The four travelers were all delighted when they saw the  familiar silvery bark and noble and graceful form.  

"Goodness, it's a _mallorn_ tree!" Frodo declared. "The only one west of the Misty Mountains, and you grew it yourself Sam!" 

"Bless my soul," He murmured. "It's a more kingly gift than mister Bilbo's mithril coat!" 

"You mean a more _queenly_ gift." Pippin chuckled.  

And the bounty of Lorien soil continued to give. All plants, be they crops, flowers,vegetables, shrubbery, or those trees that were spared, sprouted and flourished greater than they ever had in living memory. Fruits and vegetables were bigger and more flavorful, came spring the flowers and blossoms sprung out like tiny fire works, some so large their stems bowed under their weight. Bag End's garden was at its greatest glory.

The Lady Galadriel's gift seemed to be effecting other things besides plant life. The babies were born since the scattering of the soil were all quite plump and healthy, thriving. Most interesting of all, though, was that the hair on their little heads was like bright spun gold, an unusual shade.

Many animals also gave birth to young of record size and number. In fact, every living creature in the Sire's borders seemed to improve in health and vigor.

It seemed the fruitfulness and bounty of 1420 would become legendary.

* * *

Quite a few things were blossoming and flourishing under Frodo and Samwise's care. Not all of it was tangible.      

 They spent nearly every day together, Eating lunch, having tea, or, sometimes after a long day of working in the garden or checking on the new trees, they would sit together on the settee in the parlor and Frodo would read aloud, mostly from Bilbo's writings, while Sam rested.

When this little ritual first began they sat a good few inches apart. As the weeks crept by they slowly drew closer and closer with each sitting until she was pressed into his side, occasionally with his large arm wrapped around her like a blanket. When this changed was noticed neither of them drew attention to it. Why bother? It felt right, felt natural.  

They exchanged a few kisses over a scattered period of time. In the beginning they were all initiated by her, but by December Sam had enough confidence to start one himself and from that point they continued in increasing number. 

But it wasn't merely physical displays of affection they exchanged. 

Small gifts, a jar of his favorite preserves, a bouquet of the first hyacinths in a vase on her table, were a common occurrence, usually given when the other wasn't looking.

Perhaps the strangest, and yet dearest, was facial expressions. A smile, a glance, all could hold so many words and feelings. Words too. It was surprising how quickly everyday phrases such as,"The snowdrops are lookin' well this week." or, "Would you like chamomile of cat-mint?" Grew to become words of endearment _._  

They also began enjoy each others little quirks and mannerisms that they wouldn't have noticed otherwise. He found the way she creased her brow whenever she was focussed to be endearing, even more so sparkle in her eyee that showed when she laughed. She thought it was sweet that he always smiled in that own way of his whenever they saw a new bud forming, or the gentle way he handled ladybugs when he transferred them from one plant to another. And there was more, much more. 

If it had been happening anyone else, Frodo would've thought it utterly silly. 

But there was no denying it, what was between them grew continuously with each passing day, and she found herself loving Samwise Gamgee more and more, each time thinking it couldn't possibly get stronger and being proven wrong again and again.

She told him this, one evening, and after looking a bit surprised he grew all pink and pleased in that endearing way of his and told her that he had been feeling the exact same.

He had said nothing because, deep down, he was still frighted that this was all some fancy of his he'd conjured up in his imagination. She assured him by kissing the breath out of them both. 

 And so their winter was spent, and their spring began, creating new life and beauty.

By mid March, she knew it was time.  


	4. Elanor and Simbelmene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this is it! This is the chapter that warrants the E rating!

To celebrate spring equinox, the promising plenty, and their victory over Saruman, the whole Shire threw a grand feast held at Hobbiton. It was probably the biggest one since Bilbo Baggins' eleventy-first birthday, when he disappeared from the Shire forever and right into legend.

The new Party Tree, three times as lovely as the first, was resplendent in flowers and streamers. Every square inch of the clearing and tents and tables were decorated with crepe paper and the finest spring blooms, which this year were very fine indeed. The air was pleasantly heady with the scents of the flowers, the aroma of foods, and the smells that accompany a general spring evening. The joy and merriment permeated the air like a perfume itself and everyone had a wide beam on their face. 

It was the evening Frodo decided to act.

Her belly churned in equal parts nervous anticipation and excitement, so much so that she could hardly eat the tempting dishes offered. She made an effort to drink as little brew as possible. Just enough to sooth her nerves, but not enough to dull her wits. She was in a bit of a quandary though, about trying to keep Sam from drinking too much without ruining the surprise. She wanted the both of them to be alert and with a firm hold of all their senses.

At the same time, she didn't want to be controlling, telling him what to eat and drink and how much. She finally decided that the best method would be to distract him from drink by dancing, talking, and laughing the whole night. Course then she was concerned about the two of them using up all their energy.

 _Just look at yourself._ She laughed internally. _You're becoming just as much of a worrier as he is._

No, the best thing for it was to play it by ear and hope for the best.

"Somethin' bothering you, Lass? " He asked at one point. "You seem a mite distracted this evenin."

There was no use in denying it, she decided. "I _am_ a little preoccupied with some matter, nothing bad, you understand," She specified. "But with what exactly I promise to tell you later. For now though, let's just enjoy the party."

He agreed to this and didn't ask her again. 

It was easy to get carried away in all the revelry, so she let herself. The party-goers were constantly toasting Sam for his success in bringing back the trees, and so quickly at that. She couldn't help but feel warm with pride for him  and  joyful at this long overdue recognition.  

The hours flew by, midnight passed and the festivities were ending, the party-goers trickling away to their homes.

The moment was here.

 "Getting a bit late, I think it's time I went off." She said.

"Would you like me to walk you to Bag End?" He asked, like he usually did, like she knew he would.

She managed to remain collected. "Of course."  

Hand in hand they set out into the thickets surrounding the field. Sam's face was still a bit rosy from the dancing and laughter, but his eyes were still clear and he showed no signs of tiredness. He was completely oblivious to the thoughts racing through Frodo's head, or the violence happening in her rib cage.

Almost halfway to her home, a good distance away from anyone who could hear and with the shrubbery giving them a modicum of privacy, she came to a stop. He looked to her in light puzzlement and curiosity. 

"Actually, before we get there," She wet her lips. "There's something I need to ask you. Something very important." 

His eyes widened the slightest. "What is it Lass?"

She cleared her throat, then inhaled slowly through her nose before saying. "Would you... stay with me tonight?"

He blinked but his expression didn't much change. He clearly didn't understand exactly what she was asking of him. "Are you havin' those nightmares again? The ones that wake you up screaming? If that be the case I'd be more than happy to..."

"No no," She shook her head "Nothing like that. I'm afraid you misunderstand. What I mean is..." She chewed her lip as she pondered the best way to put this.

"Aye?" He continued expectantly.  

She sighed. "I suppose I'll have to be direct, if you'll forgive me." She squeezed his hand, gaze holding his.

 

"Sam, would you make love with me?"

 

There was no misunderstanding that. She could _see_ it sinking in, his eyes slowly widening and a bright red wash forming over his cheeks, nose, ears, and down into his collar. 

He gave a faint wheeze. "Make... you... I...?" He stammered uselessly and she wondered if she had overwhelmed him despite her efforts.

"You don't have to." She clarified. "I merely wanted you to know that... Whenever you're ready..." She felt very relieved to have finally said it, but hoped he wasn't feeling pressured. 

Sam swallowed thickly. "I...don't know... haven't ever..."

"You never thought of this?"

He shook his head. "No, I have. I...I've tried mighty hard _not_ to." He admitted. "But I..." he looked away, turning even pinker. "I never thought... didn't dream... it could really happen."

"Why ever not?" She demanded.

"Don't know." His eyes lifted meekly, the hint of an ecstatic, disbelieving smile appearing. "Can't rightly believe... Lass... you really want me?"

"Very much, more than anything!" she contested warmly. "Is that so hard to believe Sam-love?"

"It's just... why me?" He whispered.

She kissed his cheek softly. "Why not? You're the kindest, bravest, gentlest, most selfless being that ever walked the earth. I'd be a fool to not be as madly in love as I am." Her smile widened with playfulness. "And it doesn't hurt that you're quite handsome at that." 

He shook his head, still smiling, still disbelieving. "You're the one as fair to the eyes." He murmured. He looked back up at her, smile slipping. "But.. but are you really certain? That is...I don't doubt you're judgment none, but there's no goin' back once ...  _if_  , we do this." 

She had prepared herself for this reaction. "I've thought of this for a while now, prepared and planned for a few weeks, waiting for the best time to speak up. I know what I want, what I'm ready for."  

"I love you, more than I ever thought possible to love anything or anyone. You've been my dearest friend for many years and will continue to be so as long as we both live. You've seen me at my very absolute worst, and you tell me it has made you love me more, not less. I want to give you what I can only give to one person, and to be truly and completely _yours,_ heart, mind, soul, and body."

 She let this sink in, watched as his forehead creased and his eyes near glowed from emotion. He was soon beaming again. 

"Here you are, givin' me the most beautiful, precious thing that ever was in all creation, what's only happened in my wildest dreams... I'd be a fool and a clodpate to refuse!" 

Her whole face didn't seem wide enough to hold her own grin that formed then. "So... tonight?" 

He nodded breathlessly.

"Aye."

* * *

 

Arms linked they ran, well, stumbled more like, tripping over their own toes but not caring in the slightest.  

They were more reserved in entering her domicile so as not to draw attention, after closing and locking the front door she faced him.

He looked like one in a dream. Euphoric, and also a little terrified.

"Are you certain?" She asked gently, grabbing his hands again. "You're shaking."  

"Am I?" He gave a little laugh. "Don't mean a thing, Love. Just nerves." He took a breath that calmed him a little, and reached to gently stroke her hair, curls sifting lightly through his fingers. Some of the nervousness faded from his expression and was replaced with wonder. 

"I aint afraid, not truly." He explained in hushed tones. "It's just... such a big thing. Neither of us... I mean... we're both so new to it and all." 

"I know what you mean." She smilee. "I'm not really sure how to even begin." 

He lightly kissed the top of her head. "Don't know either. I s'pose we just..." He leaned back to regard her thoughtfully. She was about to tell him that thinking too much wouldn't help them but didn't get the chance before he leaned down to kiss her gently. 

As good a start as any. She placed both hand on his chest and let them creep up into loop around his neck. His hands, large and strong, began lightly stroking up and down her sides, curling over her hips. 

What started as simple and sweet grew languid, slippery, burning. She pushed her tongue against his lower lip lightly, feeling the faint shiver that went through his whole frame. Sam's body seemed shaped perfectly to mold to hers, so warm and sturdy. She couldn't decide where to put her hands, only more of him to fingertips and palm.  He slid one hand along her right shoulder, fingers lightly toying with the edge of the dress's neckline. 

She began to focus on the buttons of his waistcoat. Her fingers darted and plucked them apart, but only managing to undo five successfully in her state. "Mmf." He made a surprised sound into her mouth before breaking away to chortle lightly.

"Ah.. here..." he offered, unfastening the rest and shrugging the garment off. He would've folded it neatly and draped it over some chair had she not started in on his shirt buttons.

He inhaled sharply. "Fr... goodness!"

 She tried to go a little more slowly. Soon enough he was able to remove his shirt, then the two of them got started on her own clothes, She unlaced her bodice while he undid the fastenings of her skirt.  Sam pressed his lips to her brow then stepped back to look at her in her shift, lightly fingering the thin muslin. "Beautiful." He murmured. "Just like a fairy maid, Perhaps the one that married your Tookish ancestor?" 

"Hmmm." She acknowledged, rubbing her cheek against his, then slanting her mouth over his again. His hands cradled her hips once more, and he pulled back a moment to look where he held her, the faintest glimmer of nervousness appearing in his eyes. 

 _No._ She pleaded in her mind.  _Don't you start worrying now._ She gently pulled him back and he melted against her.

His fingers threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her skull while the other stroked her side gently in a surprisingly sensual caress that made her moan into his mouth. This sound seemed to trigger something in him, she felt him tense for just a moment, then relax with slow even breaths through his nose. He was probably reminding himself that it was alright now, to feel these things, to be aroused while she touched him.

He parted from her, looking a bit bewildered and self conscious.

 But then his eyes lit upon the scars on her neck and shoulders, and his demeanor suddenly changed.

She saw his eyes move from the dark mark from the witch king, the spider's sting, the chain, and she saw the play of emotions, the remembrance of grief and fear.

"Love..."

He spoke in a voice that was tight and brittle, burying his face into the juncture of her neck.

"Me dear... you came so close... If I'd lost you..."

The tears edging his words, the audible memory of his anguish, was enough to bring a lump to her own throat, but that was soon forgotten when he began to kiss the spot. He was soon pressing his lips to every bit of  skin, damaged and undamaged, her neck and shoulders and throat, her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, equal parts desperate and urgent and gentle and loving, pressing her close. 

She could feel so much at his touch, so many raw emotions that threatened to overwhelm them both, but she stayed grounded, stroking his back to both sooth and encourage.  _It's alright now my love. We are here, I am here with you._ Then he began to slow down, lingering almost reverently with each patch of skin, each warm kiss sending a tiny droplet of heat down to settle deep in her belly. 

She finally slid her shift over her head, letting it flop to the ground and was left in naught but bloomers. There was a slight, very slight chill in the air, just enough to raise goosebumps on her skin and a similar  on her breasts. All this brought a shine of wonder to Sam's eyes. He held her close and stroked her arms, hands soothing over the gooseflesh. 

 She rose to the balls of her feet to kiss him once more, both sighing at the exquisite feeling of their bare chests pressed together. Frodo gave a pleased start when Sam suddenly lifted her from the ground, his arms forming a sling beneath her thighs as her legs wrapped around his middle. Parting from the kiss she rested her chin on his shoulder as he began to carry her down the hallway, But paused for a moment. 

"Which room'd be yours?" He asked sheepishly. 

Not laughing took a mighty effort. "Fourth door on the left." 

"Ah." He continued, stumbling momentarily when she kissed the tender spot behind his ear. 

He brought her in and set her matter-of-factly on the edge of the mattress. He smiled self consciously. "You won't think me silly for wantin' the door closed, even with no one else here?" 

"Not at all, you are free to open or close any door in this smial."  

After doing so, he looked about the room. "Should I light a fire in the fireplace?" 

"Now you're stalling!" She chided gently. 

"Am not!" He protested with a flush, eyes briefly darting to her bare arms and torso. "You just seemed a mite... er... chilled, is all." 

Her bent knees raised half-consciously toward her chest. "The temperature is fine." She scooted backward in a silent invitation for him to join her. 

He knelt on the bed, sitting back on his heels, looking at her as if he was surveying a good day's work in the flowerbeds. She smiled warmly and leaned forward. "Come here Love."  

Their lips molded softly together, his hands bracing against her lower back and hip. She felt the tip of his tongue push cautiously, let it slide in and wrap around hers. 

She lay back and he followed, catching his weight on his elbows, parting from her just long enough to ask breathlessly, "Might I touch you?" 

"Yes, please." 

His large hands curved over the dips of her waist, stroking softly. They moved gradually in widening swoops, palms skimming her hips, belly, over her ribcage, both soothing and enticing. He was slow, but she was patient.  All the while he he lavished kisses on her lips, occasionally dusting a few over her brow, cheeks and chin.

Finally there was the light rasp of calloused thumbs against the underside of her breasts, and she almost held her breath from anticipation.

He cupped them lightly, tentatively, trembling, and she arched up reflexively. Growing a little braver he brushed his thumbs over the peaks, making her murmur and moan against his lips and her breath quicken. His kisses spilled over her chin, down her throat, and at last skimming lightly over where one thumb had just been before taking the peak fully into his mouth.

" _Ah!_ " She held his head in place, spine flexing and toes curling. He leaned down then to press a few kisses along the ridge of her belly, following the invisible path of prickles washing down her stomach and thighs and forming into an ache that pulsed.

But it was hardly fair, he was still half dressed. After a bit of maneuvering she tugged at the waist band of his breeches. He froze, then very slowly sat up. Hands shaking, he slowly unbuttoned his trousers, then untied the laces of his drawers with even more slowness. She kept her eyes on his face, so he wouldn't perhaps feel so open and exposed.

She wiggled out of her bloomers and shoved them off the bed, then moved beneath him, stroking the curls on his chest and belly. With shaky hands he began to map out what was uncovered, the crease where leg joined hip, the outside of her thighs, planting a light kiss on her hip. 

 Finally, he gathered enough courage to reach between her legs. She almost wasn't ready for the first tentative brush against her folds and gave a sound that was both a gasp and a whine, hips lifting off the bed.

Sam quickly snatched his hand away, looking alarmed.

"No... no... do it again..." She gasped.

He reached , the slight stroke making her moan and her bent legs quiver, pushing encouragingly against his hand.  

Gradually his touch grew more confident. She let her head fall back onto the mattress. What else could one expect from hands that were strong enough to kill orcs and simultaneously gentle and skilled enough to coax the most beautiful blooms from fragile plants? He leaned forward and began to suckle and nibble warmly at her arched throat while his fingers kept moving.

"Good... oh, so _good_..." She could barely even speak, picturing a sprout appearing from the soil, slowly reaching upward, budding, and blooming. Her hands moved over his bare back and sides, stroking his arms.

He paused his ministration for a moment, but before she could protest one thick finger slid forward and entered her.

_Eru, Yavanna, and all the Valar!_

_"_ _Sam..._!"  

He paused and she had to fight the instinct to writhe or buck against him. She heard a change in his breathing, his head lifting from her neck to look down, then the digit withdrew. Its absence almost made her growl in frustration, but then Frodo opened her eyes , not really sure when she'd closed them. and saw the worry from earlier had returned.

"So small..." He murmured, lightly stroking the inside of her thigh. 

She thought this might happen. 

She gently grasped his chin and tilted his face to see hers, summoned her most reassuring smile. "You won't hurt me."

He gave a crooked, uncertain little smile. "How can you be so sure?"

"I _know_ you, Samwise." She intoned. Her hand drifted to his cheek and he leaned into her touch. "You can be so careful, so gentle. I've seen you care for injured rabbits and fallen nests full of fledglings and nurse them to good health."  She sat up grasping his hand and bringing it to her lips to kiss his knuckles. "I trust you. You'd no sooner harm me than fly by flapping your arms." 

He gave a little laugh at the image. His laugh turned into a wheeze, mouth falling open with surprise as she popped his middle and forefinger into her mouth and slid her tongue against them.

"Heavens above..." He shuddered. He gently pulled his fingers from her mouth and placed that hand against the back of her neck, bracing her to lean for a soft  kiss that soon became smoldering, leading her to lie back again .

His free hand resuming its previous explorations, and they both broke away with a groan. She had to bite back a keen when he slowly added a second finger. It was becoming a bit of a stretch, but she refused to show any signs of discomfort, or else he might stop for good. 

 He waited a moment, breath heavy, letting her adjust, then slowly drawing his fingers them in and out, in and out. He rested his head lightly against her thigh, faced graced with an awed smile.   

Thoughts were vanishing. Her hips rose and fell in waves. She was floating, weightless, gradually evaporating into a golden mist. All the while his fingers spread and stretched and circled. 

She gave a disappointed sigh when he removed his hand a final time. Her body was still trembling, missing the warmth as he pulled himself up and lay on his side next to her. He gently stroked her side with soothing motion. "Easy now... steady on, me Dear.. " He whispered as the tremors left her body.

She pulled him over her, tugging him into another fierce kiss, trying to drink him in and pour herself out. He cradled her slight build against his bulk, his skin hot and sticky with perspiration, his cock burning her lower stomach. She curled her tongue beneath his upper lip, clinches rising in her throat with the desire. Her body began to undulate, almost of it's own accord, his length sliding against her belly, making him whimper. "Eru..." 

"Sam..." She got out. "Please, Sam... now..." 

He pulled back, breathing heavily, regarding her, looking a bit overwhelmed. "Now..." He rephrased it so it sounded almost like a question. 

 

 _Please don't doubt yourself again, this..._ "This is what I want. _You're_ what I want."  _My brave,..._ "...Beautiful Samwise."

 

He surprised her by gently grasping her waist and flipping them over, then scooted backwards until he was sitting with his back to the headboard and pulled her into his lap.

"Is it alright?" He panted. "Like this?"

Even after her encouraging words, he still didn't entirely trust himself. "This is fine... more than fine... If you want it this way."

Frodo braced her hands on his chest, looking down and exhaling. Rising to her knees, she reached down to gently hold him in place, reminding herself to relax, fighting to instinct to tense up in anticipation.

 She took him in one slow, smooth movement. Sam made a strangled noise, fingers curling into her skin. There was a momentary twinge, the lightest sting. She tried to even her breathing, and it faded rapidly. 

Oh, it was... not unpleasant.  

 It was gentle warmth and pressure. It was like a good stretch in the morning sun. It was _Him_. A relieved smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

She opened her eyes, and Sam's expression looked pained. Eyes crammed shut, jaw clenched, and hands curled into fists against her hips, his breath coming in short pants through his nose.

Frodo took his face in her hands and his eyes opened to look at her, concern replacing his previous expression.

"Frodo... you...?"

"It's alright." She assured him. Her smile was so wide it threatened to break her face. 

He smiled back and she didn't know it was even possible to hold so much love and adoration in one expression. His large hands reached to cradle her face and pull her to another kiss, the shift in angle making them both moan. 

She began to move, a light unconscious roll of her hips that made him gasp and grab her waist. It brought a gentle oscillating swell that spread up her belly and down her thighs. " _Ah_..." 

She moved again  and again,  slowly but using a little more force, gripping his damp shoulders and feeling him press in all the right places. His grip on her tightened and he thrust upward, catching on something delicious and turning the swells into sparks. 

She was gone after that, rocking, spine bowing and head falling back. It was too good, too perfect, too much to bear, feeling him within and without, the two of them moving as if they shared muscle and tendon and nerve.

He moved in strong, sure strokes, not taking, only giving. She heard his voice mingling with hers, both echoing around them. She felt the flexing of his thighs beneath her as his knees bent, his hands roaming over hip and thigh, cupping her bottom and back.

Pressure filled, white light that coiled tighter and tighter, until it broke and scattered effervescently all the way up to the roots of her hair and out the tips of her fingers and toes and continued to crest and contract in waves, her voice catching on a breathless keen.

She felt Sam press his face to her neck, crying out softly and holding her tight as he came with a surge of hot and wet. 

Her bones began to dissolve, it seemed, lassitude edging her vision as the two of them struggled for breath.

"Oh... Love..." He uttered hoarsely.

"Ssshh." She soothed. Her hand reached up to stroke his cheek, and with surprise she noted more moisture than could be attributed to sweat.

Was he crying?

Her heart swelled. "Oh Sam..." She cooed, kissing him lightly. "My Sam...I love you." 

* * *

"There's something I've been wanting to ask you." She whispered, when his eyes were closed and his arms were around her along with the blankets.

"Mmm?" He asked in a rumble that was almost a purr.

"When did you first realize that you cared for me, more than as a friend?"

He did not answer at first and she began to wonder if he had fallen asleep, then he gave a great sigh and opened his eyes to look at her.

"When first I saw you in Rivendale, lying all wilted and pale in that great bed. I thought to myself, 'How could I live if she doesn't recover? How can I live without her?'. Then it struck me, and I said to myself, 'Sam you ninnyhammer, you've gone and fallen in love with her!'" 

She laughed. "That long ago? It took so long to get through my own head." 

"Truly? When did you realize it?" 

She gave a brief stretch, chuckling at the memory. "It may sound silly." 

"I won't laugh." He promised. 

"I know you won't." She propped her chin on his chest. "It was on the road, right before Faramir caught us, when I overheard you explaining to Gollum what potatoes were." 

His eyebrows shot up and his expression looked quite comical. "You're pullin' my leg now! That's what did it?" 

She laughed again. "I swear, that was when I realized it." She insisted. "I heard you two bickering, I heard you trying to instruct him how to properly cook, and... potatoes. I thought, 'What a hobbit thing to say.' then, 'No, what a Sam-like thing to say.' And that very moment I realized... I love you." 

He slowly shook his head in wonder. "Never... I never would've thought..." 

"Things got quite chaotic right after that." She reminded him. "And we were right in the middle of our mission. It was not the time, though I wanted very badly to tell you, especially in Mordor, when you said we probably wouldn't made it out alive." 

"I understand." He rested his cheek against the crown of her head. "I don't begrudge you none, and everything ended well." 

She planted a kiss in the center of his chest. "Yes." 

They were silent again, and she began to drift off... 

"Potatoes." He suddenly spoke up again, a smirk in his voice. "Didn't know you like them _that_ much, Love." 

"Oh!" She sputtered, swatting his shoulder. 

" 'Night, Me Dear." He stated innocently, still beaming. 

It was still impossible to stay annoyed with him.  Oh well. 

"Good night love."

 


End file.
